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Sunday, January 27, 2013

Dear Asshole (Part 1)

**I tried to keep this short. For my own sanity. This is a FAIR WARNING there is very likely going to be several explicits. It is what it is. It is where my heart and head is with this. This is just the beginning of a series of "Dear Asshole" posts. More will come as I'm able to process. Each time I've ever started to write something similar to this I've ended in a pretty rough space. Never got past the first few sentences and ended up in fetal position on my bathroom floor/tub for heaven only knows how long afterwards.

As the title states: Dear Asshole. He is just that. An asshole. And so much more. As mentioned above it is likely these will not be pretty.
Dear Asshole,
You may have been excited to see this letter from me since we've not had contact in over 30 years. What pictures and information you have from me you received from your mother. Good for her for caring. I didn't want to write this when I was overly angry, emotional, or depressed. However, those 3 words seem to be part of my every day life. And have been for several months.

This last bought of severe depression was not triggered by the trauma piece you help create. It is very likely it was just part of much more going on. Each time I get closer to rising above the fog this particular piece begins to boil over. Causing there to be a ripple effect into my everyday life. You destroyed me in more ways than not.

I spent years trying to figure out reasoning's for your actions. I've spent countless hours talking to other victims. I've spent countless hours reading and trying to sift to the bottom of why abusers abuse. The more information I have found, the worse I've felt abut the situation. They say that abusers have the domino effect. The abuser was once abused. That's bullshit. I'm nearly certain that never happened to you. Next option? You strive to dominate. That is exactly what you did. When you could no longer hurt my mother, you choose to hurt me. Fuck you! You rat bastard.

I hope you woke up each day of the last 33 yrs of your life and took a good look at your shit-filled self and were eaten alive by what you did to me. I hope you never forgave yourself for it. I always thought I would be thankful for the day you died. Each day I got closer and closer. And the day that I got the phone call was the day when the previous 33 yrs of attempting to stuff deep down came boiling over. Each day, I prayed for closure that you would die. Instead, rage took over deep w/in my heart. Rage that you took the easy way out. Rage that you didn't suffer. Sure, I'm sure you suffered. You have never suffered a moment of the torment that I live each day. You don't wear the physical and emotional scars that I do. Those scars that are not seen. Only heard by the rage that has built within me.

I can only hope hell is as it is chalked up to be!! There is no amount of repentance that would bring you closer to the pearly gates of heaven. None. I know first hand that in order to cross that gate you would have needed to make amends to those you hurt.